I find the best questions about the Meaning of Life – on Facebook.
I learn many sordid truths about my fellow humans.
“I heard that before you pass away,” someone posted, “your life flashes past your eyes. If that’s true, I want to trade mine for Hugh Hefner’s.”
I snorted at that little pearl. Even in all the gin joints of the world, you’d have to go far to find such arrested development.
The poster, who calls himself “Lee,” hasn’t holed up in a grotto, contemplating The Good. He has not looked back on his youth with deep insight.
“It is what it is,” he says.
I know his ilk. He went to Big Football U and majored in “girl watching.” He and his fratmates all subscribed to Playboy and told their mothers “I read it for the articles” – when in fact they spent so much time with the centerfold they wore off her staples.
Is this really what a middle-aged guy wants out of life?
Hell in a handbasket? Barf bag?
Hey, Boomers! Time to rev up your fantasy lives!
